


please don't say you love me

by kuroshironimu



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Broken!Dojae, M/M, Mentioned Jaehyun - Freeform, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, no one's happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 03:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroshironimu/pseuds/kuroshironimu
Summary: Taeyong was a simple fool.He fell, he regretted, but he's addicted to the fall and there's no going back up.





	please don't say you love me

**Author's Note:**

> [remember this?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482905) yeah just think of this as some sort of sequel.
> 
> this is purely unbeta'ed word vomit so i might fix things... later. bear with me.

There were times when Taeyong thought Doyoung was beautiful.

 

It was the way he walked, perhaps, when he was slouching and a little skip at the end when he was feeling particularly giddy. It was his voice when he sang, much alike an angel sent down from the sky, and it caught Taeyong’s breath anytime. Or perhaps it was the way he talked and laughed, with a smile so blindingly bright and wide, and his voice was as heavenly as it was when he sang – maybe even more; Taeyong loved to hear his laughter.

 

Perhaps, _perhaps,_ it was because he’s simply Kim Doyoung.

 

The water poured down on him in tiny droplets, summer rain started to soak into his shirt while he attempted, futilely, to cover his head with his hands. The sun was still shining somewhere and he squinted at the bright lights reflecting from the falling raindrops, his somber expression quickly turned into a scowl. The boy beside him didn’t as much as to put his hands on the top of his head, but charging through the rain with a wide smile and drops of water falling onto his face until it glistened wet. Kim Doyoung smiled at the sky, at the tiny rainbows amongst the rain,

 

\- at Taeyong.

 

“Come on, hyung.”

 

Taeyong hates rain as much as he hated dust, hates to be soaked wet when he walked into the dorm, hates the darkened clouds and annoying chill that followed him after the rain. But Doyoung beckoned at him, with a smile as bright as the sun itself, his hand outstretched far for Taeyong to reach.

 

Lee Taeyong, the fool, never refused him.

 

“You know this is not the best life choice,” Taeyong complained anyway, because Doyoung was still smiling so wide and Taeyong might trip onto his own feet any moment now (technically he already did, tripping on his own heart every time Doyoung passed by, like a love-struck idiot). “My shirt starts to feel gross.”

 

“You’re gross anyway,” Doyoung stuck out his tongue before pushing Taeyong to the puddle behind him, and yelped when Taeyong stumbled and charged onto him with all his might. Taeyong could heard his laughter rung so clearly near his ear, pulled the younger boy close to his chest while he struggled in his arm. It was an act; they both knew Doyoung was taller and therefore could shrug Taeyong just as easy.

 

But Doyoung was still here, in his arms, laughing and soaking wet from the rain.

 

 

 

(Kim Doyoung was unfair. He could call his name with a bare whisper and it would still took Taeyong’s breath away.)

 

 

 

 

There were times when Taeyong thought Doyoung was beautiful.

 

It was when Doyoung’s eyes shone brighter when he talked, his wide smile was not covered behind the palm of his hand – Taeyong liked it better this way, liked the way that Doyoung felt he didn’t need to cover himself. It was when Doyoung’s laughter was echoing through the dorm and it made him feel warm, spreading from his chest throughout his whole body. It was when Doyoung was asleep on the couch with a blanket wrapped up tightly around his body, feet dangling from the edge and messy tuft of hair puffed up from beneath it.

 

Taeyong thought Doyoung looked beautiful when he’s in love.

 

Even when Doyoung loved somebody else.

 

 

 

 

Taeyong never hoped. He was content by living on the sidelines, loving from afar, even when Doyoung looked at Jaehyun like he’s looking at his whole word (and maybe, in a sense, he is). Doyoung was happy and Taeyong was enough with it, accepting the fact that he didn’t need to be the sole reason why Doyoung woke up with a smile, or why his eyes shone brighter with every word he sang. Love was never an option with him, and he believed – tried to convince himself – that this was a good enough life for him.

 

“Do you think Jaehyun will like this?” Doyoung asked one time when they were both in a music store, fiddling hands and scanning eyes through every shelf. Doyoung was looking for a gift, and Taeyong – the idiot he was – indulged him. Doyoung was holding a vinyl record, a jazz album from a singer he couldn’t recognize. Taeyong didn’t know if Jaehyun will like it – maybe there were things that wasn’t for him, something that was not meant for him to know.

 

(Taeyong, on the other hand, knew more about Doyoung than anyone in his group – even, bear him from being petty, Jung Jaehyun.)

 

“I don’t know Jaehyun like jazz,” he mulled, taking the record from Doyoung’s hand and examined it thoroughly. “Do we even have the player in the dorm?”

 

“Nope,” Doyoung fidgeted, the corner of his lips tugged down and Taeyong resisted the urge to kiss the pout away. “I just thought it’ll be nice, he likes to show this sort of thing, right? Well, I also thought it’d be good if he listens to this… I remember my brother has a copy of this in his room.”

 

Taeyong would be ecstatic just because Doyoung gave him something. He would hug the younger and said thank you, patting his head and kissing his cheek, appreciated the thoughtful effort he had given. Taeyong would listen to this, would buy the record player if he had to, all night while he hugged Doyoung in his sleep. He would proudly say that his favorite dongsaeng gave it to him, a priceless gift he couldn’t ever replace. He would love it and everything more.

 

“I think Jaehyun would be really happy because _you_ are the one giving this to him.”

 

Taeyong would, but he’s not Jung Jaehyun.

 

 

 

 

There were times when Taeyong regret. When he did, sometimes he took it to music – a jumble mess of nonsensical rhythm and sorrowful words. This time, he took it to alcohol. Bottles, when he wanted to forgot – shots, when he wanted to begone. The bitter taste on his tongue was horrible, the warmth seeping throughout his chest did nothing to soothe his aching heart. It was painful – the longing, his crave for attention, any semblance of _affection,_ from one man whose heart never belonged to him. It never did, and fate was cruel. The world he lived in was so, so cruel.

 

Taeyong dialed the familiar number when his brain was getting fuzzy, his head laying atop the cool surface of the bar counter. There were bottles, glasses of shots, wine glasses, he can’t really remember how much. He didn’t spend his time thinking before the sound across the phone picked up, a groggy voice of someone’s waking up. It was beautiful.

 

“Doyoung-ah,” he slurred, a goofy smile he didn’t even realize spreading across his face.

 

“ _Hyung,”_ the word followed closely by a sigh, and the rustle of blanket. Taeyong could faintly hear some other’s sound at the back – much alike someone else’s voice. “ _You’re drunk?”_

 

(That could be him, lying beside Doyoung and ran his fingers through his hair.

That could be him, but instead he crashed on a bar with no one but alcohol that understand his sorrow.)

 

“Pick me up,” it was a demand, rather than a request. Doyoung didn’t reject either way, just ask him the name of the bar and he will soon be there and ask Taeyong not to chug anymore soju while he waited. Petty Lee Taeyong; the satisfaction in his face was poorly hidden – for he had made Doyoung choose _him,_ instead of somebody else.

 

 

(It was ironic, really, that Doyoung would only choose him when Taeyong done fucked up and broke down at the bottom. It almost felt like pity, but Taeyong didn’t care either way.)

 

 

“Hey, Doyoung-ah?”

 

_“Yes, hyung?”_

“I love you.”

 

 

 

 

“ _Put the bottle down, hyung.”_

 

 

 

 

(Lee Taeyong regretted and regretted until his being was nothing more than sorrow and misery.)

 

 

 

 

Taeyong’s not Jung Jaehyun, the reason there were stars in Doyoung’s eyes and cherry pink shade on his cheeks.

 

He’s not the reason why Doyoung smiled so bright, the reason behind the little skip he made as soon as they went off the stage.

 

He’s not the one Doyoung would link his arms around, nor the subject of his whispers of sweet nothings.

 

 

 

Lee Taeyong was not the reason of Doyoung’s tears.

 

 

 

(Maybe, for once, he was grateful that he fell in love with Kim Doyoung.)

**Author's Note:**

> as you might already realized, the title is more doyoung's pov but the content is taeyong's. oh well.


End file.
